Making Peace
by Brigit O'Shaugnessy
Summary: Between s2 & s3. When an op takes an unexpected turn, Vaughn is forced back into an abandoned investigation. Will it help him or hurt him as he tries to cope with Sydney's death? Lauren comes later. Don't hate Melissa George! I don't own the characters.
1. Breaking Up

"Breaking Up"

Vaughn hated wearing ties. He hated the way it felt against his throat; the way it seemed to just barely allow him to continue breathing. It was strange he did not seem to notice a difference today. But then breathing had not been easy for the past few days anyway.

There had never been such an unmemorable drive. In fact, he was having trouble remembering any of it. But here he was standing on the cliffs. The salty wind beat against his face, drying his unshed tears. One hour from now he would be saying goodbye to her. He hated funerals even more than ties. Privacy was his preference in these situations. That is why he had come early—to say goodbye on his own terms, but closure seemed more elusive than ever here.

Looking down the beach he saw the pier where they had met several times in the beginning. The beginning—he had been so determined to find the truth that he had not even noticed when she had first distracted him from his goals. He could not remember when being her handler had become all about her. It had been years since he had met with Renee´, and months since he had thought about his off the books investigation. Being with Sydney had distracted him from everything that had once seemed important, but he was far from resenting her for it. When he was with her, he could maintain the illusion of security—that maybe, just maybe, the people that had ordered his father's execution were no longer operating.

Turning his eyes back to the ocean, he refocused on her. They were supposed to be on a different beach right now in Santa Barbara. Normally, he would have called to cancel the reservations. He hated the idea of not keeping an appointment, but he knew they would ask why they were not coming. There was no way he could say it. His eyes were pulled down when he heard his phone ring. It was Weiss. Ignoring the call he replaced his phone. Remembering why he had come, he regretfully extracted the other item from his pocket.

The contents of the small velvet box had been purchased just a few days ago. Rationally, it had seemed too soon, but he had considered using it in Santa Barbara. Today actually. Now it seemed that "too soon" was still too late.

He seated himself on the unforgiving rock under his feet. Pulling his knees up, he held the ring in his line of sight. Never had he thought that something so small could represent his entire life. The small circle of gold slipped over his index finger, and stopped short hindered by his first knuckle. Her fingers were so small. By all appearances, she was delicate. Not exactly petite at 5'10", but still slight though she would kill him if he ever said that aloud. But it never affected her. She was strong in every possible way. Much stronger than he was. Definitely much stronger than he felt at the moment. His head moved to rest on his forearm, and his eyes closed as he replayed their last conversation. She had been looking forward to their vacation. She was excited. Perhaps it was a little audacious of them to make plans for the future, but surely it did not deserve so severe a punishment. Removed from the drying effects of the wind, three tears escaped his restraint, and he quickly raised his head again. It stung his eyes, but somehow the pain was a relief.

"I don't think I can do this, Syd," he whispered in the direction of the ring that was intended for her. "You know I've never been able to hold a grudge against you. Not for very long. But I'm not so sure this time. I never really told you, but... I think you knew. I hope you knew... how much I love you. How pointless this is going to be without you." Swallowing hard and closing his eyes against the tears that threatened him again, his shaking hand reached for the ring and removed it from his finger. Painfully, he stood and approached the edge of the cliff. Staring over the edge, he spoke again. "You know I don't want to do this. I'm not even sure that I can, but I have to. I think it's what you'd want." He held the ring in his left fist and opened it to look at her ring one more time, his eyes were repelled from it, and disgust overtook his features. He could not accept what he was about to do. There was no accepting it, but he had to do it. With almost enough force to propel himself forward as well, he hurled the band into the ocean. It was gone forever now. Never to return. Just like Sydney, he told himself. Turning his back on the cruel waters that had taken her from him, he tried to face the idea of doing this all over again in front of everyone. It was not a pleasant idea, but it had to be done. Growing numb was his only defense, and so he would.


	2. Off Target

"Off Target"

"Are you sure you're okay to run this, man?" Weiss asked quietly. He stood off to the side of the operations center with Vaughn only days after Sydney's funeral.

"I can do my job," Vaughn answered defensively. "It's a simple operation."

"I know, but," he paused and struggled for a level of seriousness that he infrequently achieved, "No one would blame you if you didn't wanna do this right now. I mean, no one."

"Thanks. I'll be fine," he persisted. Eric Weiss was forced to accept this answer as Director Kendall approached the couple, effectively ending the conversation.

"Gentlemen," Kendall bellowed, "Are we, or are we not running an operation in five minutes? Whatever this is will have to wait."

"Yessir," Weiss answered for the both of them as they followed him to their command center for the next hour. Vaughn had not been entirely correct in his assessment. It was not a simple operation. It was, to be blunt, a termination. It had recently been proven that one of the CIA's agents in Serbia was leaking intel to a terrorist cell there. The order was to bring the agent in, dead or alive. Given this particular agent's training and record, it was more likely to be dead. One of the problems was that the only identifying mark they had of the agent was a call sign—The Raven. But they had managed to set up a meet, posing as an informant and once they had confirmed the traitor's identity they would move in and either capture or assassinate the leak, once and for all.

It was a small group of agents—Vaughn, Weiss, and Marshall—with Kendall's watchful eye hovering above all of them. Most of the work on this op would be done on the ground by the tactical team. There were snipers positioned above the outdoor cafe where the meet had been set in one of the more affluent sectors of Belgrade. Their "informant" was in position on the ground and the meet protocol had been initiated. Now they were waiting for The Raven to make contact. Marshall was monitoring the satellite feed of the surrounding areas hoping to get a head start by watching the agent's entrance, Weiss was communicating with the tactical team, and Vaughn was monitoring the satellite and several cameras directly over the meet site.

"All right, boys," Kendall admonished, "It's show time. Let's give this son of a bitch his pink slip."

Scanning for any suspicious activity within the small cafe and wondering if The Raven would show, Vaughn was suddenly struck by panic which he endeavored to conceal. A familiar face presented itself. The hair and clothes were different, but he knew the face. It was Renee´ Rienne, and he had been in this business too long to think it could be a coincidence. She had to be "The Raven." She looked relaxed, reading her paperback and sipping her coffee, but her eyes were everywhere but on the page in front of her.

Wildly Vaughn's mind raced. Surely the intel had to be wrong. Renee´ may never have been a patriot, but she was not a traitor or a mercenary. She had seen too much in her lifetime to be in league with a terrorist organization. In his mind, her termination was simply not an option. She was too valuable to his own endgame. If he was wrong, he would deal with her himself, but he had to exhaust every resource she had first. Quickly, he scanned the layout of snipers and composed a plan. He had to tip her off.

"Director Kendall, we've got some possible civilian interference in the sights of one of our snipers. I think we should reposition," Vaughn informed.

"No. It's too close to the meet time. We have three others that can take the shot if necessary. Everybody stays put," Kendall decreed matter-of-factly.

"What's going on?" Weiss asked pulling his headset off briefly to catch up with them.

"But Sir," Vaughn began again, addressing Kendall, "If The Raven enters or exits through the north alleyway, the other three snipers don't have a chance. He'll be shielded by the corners of the buildings. We need the fourth to guarantee the shot," he insisted urgently.

"Guys?" Weiss asked again. "If somebody needs to move, they need to do it now."

"Nobody is moving. If The Raven is already in the vicinity, we cannot risk tipping him off."

"Sir, respectfully, if The Raven is already in the vicinity and we haven't ID'd him by now, chances are, we're going to need that fourth shot even more. I've run everyone in the cafe through face recognition software, and haven't found a match to any of our agents that are stationed inside or outside of Serbia. We need to move now!" Kendall grimaced painfully as he evaluated the situation and uncomfortably reached a decision.

"All right, but this is your call, Agent Vaughn," he conceded while pointing an accusatory finger in Vaughn's direction, "Regardless of the outcome, it will be stated for the record that I am opposed to any deviation in the original setup," he guaranteed. "Agent Weiss, reposition the fourth sniper to avoid the group of civilians in the Southeast corner of the perimeter." Weiss began his orders to reposition as quickly as possible to avoid any detection by the incoming Raven. Vaughn watched closely, as the fourth sniper deftly packed his weapon and moved further down the rooftop. He was good, and this seemed to put Kendall at ease. Even from above, the movement was barely detectable. He doubted whether or not Renee´ would notice, but there was nothing else he could do short of admitting the truth. That was impossible. If Renee´ was captured, she would face life imprisonment under the Patriot Act. There was no way he could continue the investigation without her knowledge of the organization and contacts.

Agonizing minutes passed and The Raven had still not made contact. Kendall was growing more anxious. "Marshall, have you got anything suspicious on the outside satellites?"

"Nothing, Sir. Just a lot of old women buying bread."

"Not good enough. Agent Vaughn, run those faces again and broaden the search parameters. I want to see anyone that has worked for us directly, and any known assets, informants, pilots, therapists, receptionists, payroll clerks, delivery men, anybody!"

Vaughn set to work on the face recognition scan again. Just as he finished resetting the parameters, he watched as Renee´ calmly stood and entered a nearby shop. She wasn't going through with the meet. If she did not have a plan of escape, she could easily wait them out until she knew it was safe. As he began running the program again, he breathed a little easier, knowing that it would turn up nothing on his associate. He had run each face manually the first time and had skipped her when he recognized her, but now with Kendall watching, he would have had to run her as well.

With disaster averted, Vaughn now considered, for the first time that this would not be a shining star on his record. But that was not nearly as important as finding the truth, and unless Renee´ was apprehended later and the footage of this operation was reviewed in tandem, no one would ever be able to prove what he had done. Nevertheless, Kendall would need someone to take the blame for the failed op, and Vaughn was not in a position to be livid about being the scapegoat this time.

The meet time came and went, and The Raven never showed. Two hours later, Kendall reluctantly ordered Weiss to instruct the teams to withdraw. Without knowing the identity of their suspect, a search of the area would not be helpful. Kendall hated admitting defeat. He hated it even more when it had to be typed and submitted in report form. A thousand things could have sabotaged the operation, but the theoretical mishaps could not be submitted. Just the facts. The facts were that Director Kendall was overseeing an operation to apprehend a traitor, and the operation did not succeed.


	3. Off the Books

"Off the Books"

It was not normalcy, but it was a nice illusion. Watching hockey with Weiss was a common occurrence. No amount of beer and pizza could make him forget, but it seemed that it was a normal thing to do anyway.

"Mike, I wanted to say I was sorry about earlier," Weiss began, "I didn't mean to sound like you couldn't do your job. Obviously, you can; I'm just worried about you. And I hate that you make me say this stuff out loud."

"Sorry about that," he feigned, "I think you were right though. Just because I can do my job, doesn't mean I'm the best person to be doing it right now."

"Look, whatever I said before, you know you're one of the best at what you do."

"And you know how I feel about this job. I would gladly sacrifice my life for this country. But there is a limit to what a person can give. I think I just need some time away to process everything."

"Whaddo you mean? You thinking about taking some time off?"

"Maybe. Maybe a lot of time off."

"Like how much time?"

"Maybe enough to travel. Visit some friends. Be a tourist."

"A tourist? With the khaki shorts and the Nikon?" Weiss asked in disbelief. "Dude, maybe you should talk to Barnett."

"I have."

"And she told you to go on a safari?"

"What does it matter what she said? This is what I want to do."

"Okay, but I really don't know if isolating yourself from everyone is the best way to deal with this."

"I'm not isolating myself. I told you I was going to visit friends."

"Friends who don't know Sydney."

"You're right. They _didn't _know Sydney. Which means, maybe I won't have to have this conversation with them," he stated in warning. "I will deal with Sydney, but I need to do it on my own terms. I can't stand the way people look at me—people I don't even know. Hell, even Jack gives me these, sort of, sad-eyed pity stares."

"Look, we don't have to talk about it, but I just think it's a good idea to have people around that know what's going on with you."

"I know where to find you," he answered more softly. "I know you're trying to help. Thank you. And I'm not trying to run away. I just think I need some time."

"All right, fine. But do me a favor. Keep Barnett's number too. 'Cause I really hate being the sensitive guy."

"No, you don't."

"No, I don't."

* * *

Barnett had told him exactly what he would have expected her to tell him. Sydney was gone, and he needed to work toward accepting it and moving on as well as he could. Move on to what? She didn't know that his entire life for the last 27 years had been about Sydney. He knew that he hadn't always been the best father. A horrible father, would be a more accurate description. But he had loved her. And now that he had her in his life he would not let go so easily. Dead? Maybe she was. But there was too much surrounding her death to make someone in his line of work instantly suspicious.

He stood a few feet from the crashing waves. The sea was gentle today, the way he preferred it. Jack had never been a great lover of the ocean, but Sydney was. If she was indeed dead, this was the last place he had physically been with her. Was it sentimental and foolish to come here? Perhaps. But perhaps it was the only place to start. If she really was dead, and he really did need to move on, the only way to do that was to dispel all suspicion from his mind. Whatever other failings he had, Jack knew himself.

Looking down to the waves that were sweeping ever closer to his feet he noticed something that didn't seem to belong. Picking up the circle and wiping it off, he identified a ring. Someone will be missing this, he thought, or not missing it. Turning the ring over, he read a simple inscription, "Always on your side ~ MCV." He had never been a religious or a mystical man, but somehow the simple words spoke to him, encouraging him to finish what he had started. He hadn't always acted in Sydney's best interest. He hadn't always been on her side. But now he would. If he was proved wrong, there was plenty of time for him to move on, but for now, he was the only one fighting for her, and there was no way he could give up until every lead had gone cold.

* * *

"Agent Vaughn, how can I help you?" Kendall asked, seemingly annoyed by Vaughn's presence in his office. He continued shuffling papers and only fleetingly looked up.

"I was wondering if I could request an extended leave of absence. Given everything that's happened in the past week, I'm not sure that I'm the best person to be doing this job, and I'm not the kind of person that's going to stay in position for the sake of my career over the safety of this country and its agents."

"Agent Vaughn, if you want some time off, just say so. You don't have to feed me a line," he answered finally submitting to eye contact.

"It's not a line, sir."

"Whether it is or isn't, your request is granted. Frankly, I'm surprised you haven't been in here sooner. Pick up your official forms from personnel and turn them so they can fill the spot till you get back." Kendall returned his attention to the files on his desk.

"Thank you, sir." Vaughn's head dropped and he turned to go.

"Oh, and Vaughn? Anything you're working on needs to be wrapped up or handed off quickly. NSA is coming in to do a deposition of all our agents on Derevko. I imagine that will take up a good deal of the next week. You can go after that."

"Thanks."


End file.
